Fixing Things
by Rellik 01011993
Summary: WARNING mentions of suicide/ideation/attemp. Hannibal arrived at Will's home in Wolf Trap in a panic. He never panicked. Nothing could make him panic. At least, that was what he had always assumed. Sure, the profiler had been in danger many times on the job before, but he was usually armed, and he usually fought tooth and nail to get out of those situations. Reviews always welcome.


Jack knew that the case they were working on had gotten to Will more than usual. But he kept pushing, demanding the answers he needed to solve the case. Preferably _before_ another body landed in their morgue, and more importantly, on his case list.

Will told him that he was feeling unstable. That his world wasn't right and he didn't know how to change it back again. The team told him that Will wasn't coping with this one and that they could take it from here. Doctor Lecter told him that he was pushing the empath too hard and that he was going to break him. Jack didn't listen. Jack never listened.

He had the perfect tool to solve crimes, otherwise unsolvable crimes, and he didn't seem to care what it cost to use that tool. He didn't even seem to remember anymore that the tool was actually a human being. He had long ago stopped viewing Will as that chipped tea cup for the most special guests.

When Will came into work one day and told Jack that he had figured out a way to fix himself, Jack didn't think too deeply on it. If the empath had found a way to fix himself, that would be excellent. He didn't need to know the finer details, didn't _want_ to know. He didn't notice that Will tidied up his office and classroom that same day. Nor did he notice that Will was giving very specific details on his thoughts rather than the fragments they usually received until much later in an investigation. He was tidying up.

Will didn't seek out Hannibal, worried that he would see through his calm and realise what he had planned – and that he would stop him. He also didn't want the doctor feeling guilty later on if he _didn't_ see what Will had planned.

Avoiding Hannibal was enough of a clue to the foreigner though. And when he spoke quietly with Katz for a moment, his worries were reinforced. He had grown quite close to Will, and had thought Will got at least a little comfort from their conversations. He knew that for Will to avoid a session, he had something bad going on in his head. Something terrible. Something worse than what the monsters brought in with them. It was something that was Will's own thoughts.

And considering Will's main goal, aside from catching monsters, was ridding himself of the after-effects of getting into their heads, it was fairly obvious to Hannibal what it was he planned to do. He planned to kick everyone out of his head, once and for all.

Hannibal arrived at Will's home in Wolf Trap in a panic. He never panicked. Nothing could _make_ him panic. At least, that was what he had always assumed. Apparently all it took for panic to set in was Will to be in danger. Sure, the profiler had been in danger many times on the job before, but he was usually armed, and he usually fought tooth and nail to get out of those situations alive. This time, Hannibal feared, good Will would not be fighting to get out of the situation.

He broke into the house noisily and called for the dogs. None came. Will had been truly organised and relocated his beloved animals. Rushing through the house, Hannibal offered prayers to gods he had not spoken to since he was a boy with his mother by his side.

He opened the bathroom door, already prepared for what he would find, though the image presented to him still tore at his heart. He rushed to Will's side. Ignoring the vivid red. Feeling for a pulse. Ignoring the cool temperature of his skin. Watching for movement of his chest. Ignoring the stillness of the body. A flutter of his eyelashes. _Anything_ that would show Hannibal he was still alive.

x x x

Will stirred, his head aching and his mouth dry. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was sure he was forgetting something. Something big. He cracked his eyes open and realised he was in a hospital room. In a hospital bed. And Hannibal was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out of the window.

He knew the doctor was aware he was awake by the set of his shoulders, he was just giving Will some privacy while he realised his plan had failed. The one person who always knew what he needed, and didn't begrudge him that. The one person who always gave, instead of taking from Will.

He reached out with an unsteady hand and touched Hannibal's arm, letting him know that he could do as he pleased now. Will understood what was happening. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that Hannibal." He spoke softly. Always the empath, always the one to see to the needs of others before the needs of himself.

Hannibal shook his head. "I am glad that I did. If I hadn't seen you like that, it would have been a stranger seeing you dead. If the price of you living is a bad memory in my head, I can pay that…" a slight pause while the doctor weighed his words. "Do you want to talk about it?" When Will's eyes flicked to the doorway, Hannibal understood his hesitancy. "Agent Crawford is not allowed to enter this room until I clear it, and I will not clear it until you approve."

Will nodded tightly, unable to express his gratitude for that. "When he dragged me back into the field, he told me he would keep me from getting too close. Told me all I would have to do would be tell him that I need out." He paused, struggling to find the right words. Struggling to think of what it was he needed to say. "I told him, a number of times. I told him I felt unstable – he told me to get a grip, we've got a new case. The team told him on this last case, and told him they had enough to figure it out without me. And I know you told him." He stared out of the window for a few minutes, not wanting to verbalise what he was about to say. Not wanting to paint such an ugly picture of Jack even though it was accurate. Hannibal waited patiently. "I realised that I can go to Jack and tell him I'm broken as often as I like – he's never going to listen. He's just going to keep shoving monsters inside my head. I figured I'd rather fix the issue now than live like that…"

Hannibal nodded slowly. "I can see your reasoning Will, and I understand it. If I can find a way to get you out of Agent Crawford's reach, would you agree to try to get better? Try to live?" Will realised that Hannibal was still sitting on his bed, and looked almost comfortable. This was the closest they had been, other than the rare handshake.

"I don't see how you're going to pull that off Hannibal, but if you do I'll agree. I think I can oust the residing monsters from my mind, as long as I don't have to drag more in." he leant back, tired already.

Hannibal smirked, he had been planning since Will was brought to the hospital, something to keep his mind occupied while he waited for his friend to wake. Now that he had permission from Will to be his guard against Jack…he could step in and fight the man in any way he needed. "I intend to write a letter to the Director of the FBI. I'm certain that they will rein Jack in. And if that does not work, we shall arrange a restraining order. If further measures are required, I'm sure I can think of something." When he saw a smile, a genuine smile, on Will's lips he relaxed further. "I brought you lunch, if you're hungry?"

Will smirked. "You just didn't want to watch me eating hospital food, did you? Inflicting your high standards of food on people around you whenever you can."

Hannibal stared for a moment before realising Will was teasing him. He had never seen Will tease someone before. He understood it to be something he was not comfortable in doing because he was never sure of social rules. He was, apparently, comfortable enough with Hannibal and the fact he would tell him if he overstepped any boundaries.

"Of course that's it, Will. I cannot stand to watch you shovel that poison into your mouth. Let alone the thought of the taste of it! No, I will bring you food. It will put my mind at ease, and your tastebuds." Hannibal nodded decisively before turning away and reaching for the containers of food.

"So, if I'm going to quit the FBI, what will I do?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow in curiosity – he hadn't mentioned quitting the FBI. Just the field work. "Come on Hannibal, you and I both know that if I work _anywhere_ near Jack Crawford he will find a way to force me back in. I'm not overly attached to my teaching position anyway. So, what do I do?"

Hannibal shrugged, handing Will a plate of food. "What would you like to do Will? What do you enjoy in life?" Hannibal sat back on the edge of the bed, apparently pleased that Will was comfortable with the close proximity.

Will took a bite noticing the flavours of the food. Before Hannibal, he had never tasted his food – had always been too busy eating it quickly just in case it got taken away from him. In case it disappeared like it had done so many times during his childhood. Food hadn't been for enjoyment before Hannibal, it had been for survival.

"I don't know. The dogs. Making fishing flies. Working on the boats." He shrugged. "That's all I can think of."

Hannibal could sense Will's embarrassment that he could only name three things he enjoyed. "More than some people can manage William. You never told me you work on boats…" he was curious, any unknown detail about Will always piqued his interest.

Will shook his head. "Not in years, no seriously anyway, but I was good at it. My father taught me how, raised me on it really. When I visit him, it's how we spend most of our time, fixing the really difficult ones that stump my father."

Hannibal smiled. "If a man who works on boats for a living leaves the difficult ones for when you visit, I would imagine that you are more than good at it Will. Does your imagination come into it, or is it a completely separate skill set?"

Will smiled, pleased that someone had finally realised that his imagination and empathy wasn't just for killers. "It's more knowledge based, but I can connect the dots quicker than others. And there are only so many problems that can happen. All perfectly logical. I like fixing boats…"

Hannibal nodded in agreement. "I would imagine that the problems of boats are…more acceptable and the results less ghastly. I can see how that work would calm your mind and ease your soul Will. Perhaps we should find out where you could work? Or would you rather work from home? I would imagine the FBI is currently drawing up a considerable commiserations cheque for you, you won't _have_ to work for some time…"

Will stared for a long time, his brain not sure of how to process the information. "Why are they doing that?"

Hannibal smiled. "Because I informed them that Jack had been made aware that you required space from this killer, and that you had already provided all necessary information to the team. They are now aware that Jack has repeatedly overstepped the bounds and shoved you in the direction he chose. They want to make up for that by providing for you at least until you are able to pull your life back together again."

Will blinked, shocked. "I've…I've never _not_ had to work before." He whispered quietly, now staring at the wall. It had always been work or starve. He knew what it was like to starve, and he had never chosen that option.

Hannibal nodded. "I know, which was why I suggested you might like to start working on boats again, or at least looking into it. It will keep your mind busy, and would give you structure to build your life up again."

Will glanced at Hannibal, worry in his eyes. "Anywhere I could work on boats, I would have to move away from here." He paused, considering his words. "I've never known another psychiatrist who can get my mind to take on counselling… And I've never had a friend who fully accepted me without trying to change me in some way."

Now his worry was obvious to Hannibal, and it warmed his heart. Will needed to leave the FBI and his home to get away from Jack. And in order for him to find work that he enjoyed, that could help heal him, he would need to leave the state. He did not, however, feel comfortable building a new life without Hannibal in it.

"Will, wherever you choose to move, I had intended to follow. We are…friends, and I do not wish to have a life without you anymore than you wish to have one without me." Hannibal smiled fondly at Will.

Will frowned. "What about your patients? And your clinic?" he bit his lip, worrying now that if he moved he would rip Hannibal from a well-structured life.

Hannibal chuckled, the first time Will had ever heard him laugh. "My clients are dull, and can be referred to other psychiatrists. My clinic can be closed down or sold to a colleague. My house can be sold or rented out. These are just things, Will, and in comparison to my friendship with you – they are worth nothing."

Will frowned at the wall, completely silent for several minutes. Hannibal was starting to think he had offended the young man in some way when he finally turned to meet his gaze, confusion in his eyes. "Forgive me if I'm wrong Hannibal but that sounds an awful lot like a…"

Hannibal's lips twitched with a smile he kept hidden. "Like a romantic offer? Probably because it is an offer, Will. If you would be…comfortable with a change in our relationship, it is an offer. If you wish for things to remain as they are, then they will."

Will bit his lip while he tried to think of the best way to explain things to Hannibal. "I'm not the most successful person, when it comes to romantic relationships Hannibal. I would be afraid that I would ruin it and lose the only friend I've ever had…"

Hannibal nodded, fully aware of Will's concerns and his history in relationships. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe it's not all on you, Will? That maybe some of the responsibility for failed friendships and relationships should land on the shoulders of the other party?" Will's stunned expression spoke volumes to Hannibal. "You have done very well constructing this friendship with me. Occasionally there will be something…inappropriate but when I point it out you adjust your behaviour and we continue on. When you require me to let you alone, you verbalise that and I leave you be until you're ready.

"I can't help but feel that your previous friends have not pointed out social norms to you, nor have they respected your requirement for space. Being your friend has not been a chore, dear Will, nor have I regretted it. I think that we are a good fit for friendship which is why we are still successfully friends. When you are ready to step forward to a new branch of our relationship, I will be here. If you do not wish to risk what we have, I will appreciate that, and I will still be with you, as your friend."

Will nodded jerkily, not sure what he wanted more. A chance with Hannibal for the future, or his friendship to remain unthreatened.

"We will talk more on this later Will. For now, you need to rest. And I promise you, Jack Crawford will not be permitted to set foot in this room unless you very clearly give the ok first." Hannibal took the plate of mostly eaten food from Will and stood up. "I will visit again tomorrow, Will."

x x x

He woke in the darkness to a person looming beside him and almost let out a startled yelp before he recognised the outline. Jack Crawford had snuck in for a visit outside of visiting hours and without supervision.

"You're not meant to be in here Jack…" Will's voice was raspy from sleep and nerves and he was satisfied to see the shadow jump. Jack hadn't expected him to wake up.

'I'm so sorry Will. Had I known I…" his voice trailed off, full of guilt and grief. He had lost his best tool, of course he was grieving. As for the guilt…it was a socially acceptable response to the situation he had all but caused.

Will blinked, incredulous. "You're not meant to be in here Jack." The agent was good, but he wasn't so good that he could pick anything up from one sentence repeated over and over. He pushed the call button for the nurse, and hoped she wasn't caught up with another patient. He wanted this man out of his room as soon as possible. The less time Crawford had to talk at him, the less likely it was that he could try to turn the tables on Will. Given a few minutes, Will would adopt the guilt and grief that belonged to Jack. And that had always been the problem.

Within seconds the nightshift nurse stuck her head through the doorway, flicking on the overhead light. She startled at the sight of Jack before her chin lifted stubbornly. Hannibal had made sure that every nurse on roster for Will's care was aware of the role Jack Crawford had played.

"Sir, you're not meant to be in here. It is outside of visiting hours, not to mention the fact you are on the list of people who are notto visit Will under _any circumstances_. Now, please leave." She stepped into the room to hold the door open and watched with steely eyes as Crawford stalked out of the room. Her nametag identified her as Bec.

Once she was sure he had gotten to the other end of the hall she shut the door to Will's room and took a seat. "Dr Lecter told me about that man and what he did to you." She was angry, on Will's behalf. And she was sitting in his room to guard him should Crawford turn around and come back. Will could see a portable buzzer on her hip – if anyone else needed her she would know about it, he relaxed back into the bed.

"Did Dr Lecter also tell you _why_ Jack Crawford hangs onto me like a pit-bull?" she looked confused for a moment before she shook her head. He didn't know why he was telling her this, as he normally didn't like people to know about it. He just needed to talk, to stay awake for a little while. "They call it excessive imagination, or extreme empathy. Given enough to go off of, I can all but adopt the mind of anyone. When I was younger, and still now when I'm stressed, I had trouble talking like myself if there was someone with a different accent or word choice pattern."

Her eyes widened and she leaned closer. "So Mr Crawford had you…adopting the minds of killers? And he wouldn't let you stop? That's dreadful!" she paused a moment, not sure if she was overstepping a boundary or not. "Will, I'm sorry for how you had to do it, but I'm glad you got away from that man."

x x x

As promised, Hannibal arrived the next day five minutes before visiting hours technically started. He was scowling. "I hear you had a visitor last night Will. I am sorry, I had not realised he would go to such lengths."

He was scowling because the extensive measures he had taken had not protected Will from the presence of Jack Crawford. "Hannibal, relax. He had to sneak in at night, and I don't think he was even intending on waking me. When I pushed the buzzer, Bec was here in seconds. She got pissed off and kicked him out. Then she sat with me for an hour after he was gone, talking to me to keep my mind off things."

Hannibal's scowl lifted slightly. "You spoke with Bec? How did you feel?" he dropped onto the bed beside Will, needing proximity.

Will smirked at the question before shrugging. "Like an idiot babbling about trivial things. But it kept my mind off Jack Crawford creeping around the building." He glanced away from Hannibal for a moment before continuing. "I felt I could talk to her because you had…approved her for night duty. You know I have trouble with the nights, and you would not have picked anyone who wasn't trustworthy. I could speak to her because she had already passed your judgement."

Hannibal was at a loss for words. Will didn't normally talk to people he knew personally, and yet he had talked to Bec because Hannibal had given her the all clear. He trusted Hannibal's judgement of people completely.

Will smiled. "Besides, if Bec had taken too long I was working on channelling you. When you want to, you're very hard to read Hannibal." He chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. "And I know for a fact that Jack can't read you at all and he hates that."

Hannibal returned his smile. "I may be difficult to read for others, but trust that I am not difficult for you, Will." He leant a little closer, still not touching. He knew how Will felt about unnecessary touching and eye contact, he didn't want to make the younger man uncomfortable.

Will reached out with an unsteady hand and laid it on top of Hannibal's on the blanket. "No, you're not difficult for me to read, not anymore." Hannibal shifted his hand slowly; giving Will time to pull away, and laced their fingers. "Although sometimes I wonder if I'm reading you or projecting me…" he spoke quietly, not entirely sure what Hannibal's reaction would be.

Hannibal leant forward and brushed his lips against Will's. "Is that what you're worried you're projecting Will?" he whispered against the empath's lips, remaining close. "I assure you Will, you are not projecting." He brushed his lips slowly across Will's once more – hoping for a reaction.

Will's breath caught in his throat. "Well...that's certainly good to know." He murmured when Hannibal pulled back slightly, a small smile softening his words.


End file.
